Opened Eyes
by patternedcomicstars
Summary: Khan is still plotting, still planning. With his family and friends taken and sealed away, he is utterly surprised when he finds his mate and wife, Margo, in a library. The only problem is, she can't remember him, and Spock has an interest in his new comrade. Khan/OC/Spock
1. Prologue

Enjoy! I might not get some things right, so no flames please, thank ya. Constructive criticism welcomed, uberly.

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Her eyes were the strangest he'd ever remember seeing.

One green, one grey.

They stared into infinite space, her mouth open in a silent screech that would never be heard again. She'd been awake when frozen. Now she would never wake again. Khan could see the purple marks on her petite wrists from where her restraints bruised her.

She was gone, but still in front of him. He was _all _alone now, besides his sister. He'd been foolish, forcing his mate into something she didn't want. He had been selfish.

Her alabaster skin was a perfect white, paper like in appearance. Even through the glass he could still find himself counting her freckles. Clad in the standard pod dress code, a skin-tight black top and pant, she was even attractive in her dead, frozen state. Her bright red hair was tied in a messy knot, half fallen out from her struggle. She was tiny, only coming to Kahn's lower pectoral region. He remembered thinking her only a teenaged girl whenever they first met.

"Mr. Harrison, your time is up." A relatively authoritative voice called, causing Khan to falter. Sparing himself one last look at her pain-filled face, he turned on his heel and walked passed the other capsules that held his crew, his eyes falling on his sister's sleeping face whenever he passed her.

Nurses tending to the pods were passing Khan, perhaps doing their rounds, as he walked toward the waiting guards. Some smiled to him briefly in recognition, some in pity, some out of fear. When Khan passed through the door leading into a sort of entry hallway, he could've sworn some nurses were gathered around the same pod he'd been silently weeping over. General Marcus stood firmly in the hallway, smirking. "I hope you have found your motivation again, John. I really do."

Biting back a hiss, he simply replied: "Yes, sir."

A sedative strong enough to knock out a Vulcan during Pon Farr was sent through his bloodstream, causing him to loose consciousness before being transported back to England.

Although relatively serving it's purpose, the sedative did not mute the sudden familiar scream that sliced through the air.


	2. Meeting Again

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She didn't know why she was sent to this particular library, but every thursday, at a certain time, she found herself coming to this place. It was a victim of the future, it's timeless walls never falling as it's strong twentieth-century structure held.

She read the same series every time, progressing further into every time, sometimes restating it. It was a magical world filled with fond memories of her mother reading the pages to her, throwing her voice this way and that to portray the good and the bad. She cried like she did reading it the first time, she laughed like she did the first time. It would forever be her favorite series: the boy from under the staircase.

Sniffling and swiping away a few stray tears, she absorbed the death in her favorite book of the series' pages. The last book had always been her favorite, because it was an end to so many more beginnings. She was so engrossed in the pages that she didn't realize the man sitting a table beside her's openly staring at her, watching her as she cried over her story.

He only looked away when she sat up, rubbing both of her eyes with the heel of her left hand. Lightly laughing at how silly she was being, she shook her head as she jumped down from her perch. The seats where barstool-like, but with a comfy back and arms. The tables were high, modern, unlike their surroundings. She liked the clash.

She left her things at her perch, trusting no one would do anything. It was an open-aired library, surely she could trust her fellow readers. She readjusted the messy bun atop her head as she walked towards the shelf she always visited, smiling at the attendee who was assigned to that particular row.

"Done again?" Hal asked, grinning as he stepped onto the ladder. He'd been there since her arrival. He'd been her first friend.

She nodded, smiling up to him as the ladder extended, taking him ten feet into the air. "Could you reserve the first one for next week? I would be eternally grateful." Her German twang made him laugh and nod. "Don't worry, Marge. I know the drill."

"Thank you, Hal." She turned to go, but was caught by him moving the ladder in front of her. "Love, you're mascara is running."

She laughed, using his pant leg to wipe it off. She continued to giggle as he yelled at her, then was shushed by his superior. Walking back to her spot, her stomach flipped into her shoes. _Where were her things_?!

She let out a strangled gasp as she fell to her knees underneath the table. "Purse? Purse! Where are you purse, please!" She quietly begged, gasping again when someone stepped in front of her.

"Is this what you're looking for?" A deep, almost hypnotic voice cooed. The man bent down to a knee, though he still couldn't fit under neath the table without slouching.

Blushing like mad, she gently to her things from his outstretched hand. "Wh-where did it go?" She asked, her eyes wide ad yet again filled with tears. He laughed, rising from his quite awkward position. She took his still outstretched hand, almost yelping when he pulled her up as if she weighed nothing.

"You really musent leave your things unattended. I had to stop a rather ugly fellow from taking them." He was serious now, still holding onto her hand.

"Oh my goodness! Thank you, sir! What can I do to repay you for your troubles?" She asked, her eyes wide and pleading. She didn't notice the way his body straightened, the way his eyes hooded with lust for only a few seconds. If only she remembered what she _did_ do for him so many years ago.

"Well, would my lady care for some dinner? It _is_ about some time." His eyebrows rose in an attractive offering. Blushing again, Margo smiled. "How do I know you did not just steal my purse, only to feel guilty and use it as a cheesy pick-up line?"

"Well, I guess you don't. You'll just have to trust in me." She stared at him for a few moments, then down to their hands. She looked back up. "What is the name of my purse's savior?"

"John Harrison, at it's service." He playfully lifted the bags strap to his lips.

"Ugh. Fine. Take me, John." Those words struck a chord in him, lusty thoughts filling his head once again before he shook them out. "Of course, my lady Margo."

They walked with her arm in his, her eyes watching his face as they exited the library. He was a member of Starfleet, by the looks of his uniform. A moderately highly-respected one, at that. Maybe thats why he knew her name.


End file.
